


Kiss & Make Up

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (not that kind of happy ending), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2017, Safeword Use, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9795092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: Their hard safeword is rarely used, so when it is, Jemma feels guilty and Bobbi feels uncomfortable. Luckily, they can talk it through together and hug it out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely hurt/comfort (+ some angst) rather than smut, but it deals closely with sexual themes and sexual consent. Angst/H/C with a happy ending (not that kind of happy ending).
> 
> TW: dubcon references ie *no* dubcon behaviour actually occurs, but due to the nature of the prompt, it is referenced/discussed.
> 
> -
> 
> I am still taking Femslash Feb prompts/requests (both smutty & non-smutty) here or on tumblr (@theclaravoyant). I reserve the right to deny requests, but I will give you the opportunity to submit another if I turn it down. See [here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ApplePie_BananaMilkshakes/profile) for some guidelines.

smutty Simmorse [here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ApplePie_BananaMilkshakes) \- non smutty Simmorse [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9627416/chapters/21749822)

-

 _“Banana milkshakes,”_ Bobbi finally hissed, because she couldn’t take it anymore. It was only half a second before it registered in Jemma’s brain – she only had to put up with one more thrust, and then a fumbling pulling out. Bobbi yelped, but her body collapsed with relief as Jemma walked away, walked it off. Bobbi buried her face in the sheets, almost crying in equal parts pain and frustration.

Jemma watched Bobbi collapse, and took a deep breath. 

“Are you okay? Bobbi?” 

“Yeah, I’m – yep.” Bobbi sat up in a hurry, and winced. Jemma blanched. 

“Oh, god did I hurt you?” 

Bobbi waved her off and stood up, looking for her clothes briefly and aimlessly before seeking out the bathroom instead. 

“Bobbi! Talk to me!” Jemma called through the door. 

“I’m fine,” Bobbi snapped back. “I just need a shower, is all.”

Jemma deflated. She felt a little silly, standing there in a leather corset and sex-heels and a strap-on with her hair all over the place and their clothes dotted everywhere, but she also felt dirty and cruel, and the longer she thought about it, the deeper the spiral took her. Had she missed some sort of flag? Oh, she hated to think it, but had she even possibly missed the orange light, apple pie? Bobbi had seemed tense, but that wasn’t altogether unusual with a new activity, especially one as invasive as anal penetration. She had asked, though, Jemma assured herself. She’d given Bobbi the opportunity to object and Bobbi hadn’t.  
  
Why? 

Or what had happened that had made her change her mind so suddenly? A bad memory, a trauma of some kind?

With a sour taste in her mouth, Jemma cursed and unclipped the strap-on with disgust. She threw it in a bag of things to clean, and then – with Bobbi still in the shower – set her sights on cleaning up the rest of the room. She might as well do _something_ useful, after all. 

Once she’d finished cleaning, Jemma sat on the bed. She was wearing regular pyjamas by that point, having long since discarded her heels. She’d lingered over whether or not to remove the bodice – it seemed unfairly like she was trying to move on and push this under the rug, when she should have been owning it and practicing good aftercare – but in the end she had decided removing it would be better. Reassuring Bobbi that they were no longer in a sexual situation was important after such a dramatic breakdown, and she wanted all hints of their pretend power imbalance gone when they finally talked about this. The best aftercare she could practice at times like this was making sure Bobbi was okay and figuring out what had gone wrong. 

So she waited. 

And waited. 

And eventually, the water cut off. Jemma heard the shower door slowly swing open. She tried not to rush into anything, not to sit upright on the bed. If Bobbi wanted to walk out, get some space, Jemma had to let her. 

But Bobbi pushed slowly into the room, wrapped in a towel. Her hair was drab and sad, and her facial expression solemn. Her eyes were a little red, but when she saw Jemma, she seemed relieved at her vanilla outfit. Jemma smiled at her, as reassuringly as she could, and gestured to the pyjama drawer in case Bobbi was still waiting for permission, but Bobbi was already moving. 

Bobbi changed and slumped onto the bed beside Jemma, but remained disturbingly silent. Jemma let her stew for a while, but in the face of what she felt like she’d just done, it was too horrifying for her to wait. If not for Bobbi’s sake, for her own, she had to clear things up before she dug herself into a hole she might never fully be able to climb out of. 

Gently, tenderly, Jemma reached for Bobbi’s hand. It was resting on her abdomen, by her hip, moving slowly up and down as she breathed. 

“Bobbi,” Jemma murmured. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” 

Bobbi nodded, and finally met Jemma’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry for shutting you out after, I just…wasn’t really sure what was going on my head. I don’t know why I reacted like that. I mean, I was uncomfortable, that’s why I said it but…you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I really feel like I did,” Jemma confessed. “We almost never get to the safeword!” 

“I know!” Bobbi sighed. “I guess it’s my stupid spy training. I just thought, it’ll get better, hang in there. I didn’t want to give up on it when I thought I could get through it, and then, all of a sudden, I did.” 

“Sex is meant to be fun, Bobbi!” Jemma scolded. “Not something to ‘get through’!” 

“Jemma, I know, okay?” Bobbi insisted. “I’m shit at communication, is what I’m saying. You didn’t do anything wrong. I could’ve stopped you before it got that far and I didn’t.” 

“I still feel bad,” Jemma confessed. “God, I feel awful. I feel like a terrible domme. Like a terrible _person._ I mean – I guess that’s what safewords are for, and I did stop, so –“

“Exactly.” Bobbi sat up and put one hand on each of Jemma’s cheeks, looking her hard in the eyes. “You did everything like you were supposed to. There are risks in this kind of sex and sometimes lines get crossed. We wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t trust each other to stop. I trust you. I love you.” 

Jemma lifted her hands to cover Bobbi’s. 

“Thanks for letting me know you were uncomfortable. Even if it was a bit later than we both would’ve liked, it would’ve been worse for both of us if you hadn’t spoken up. Thanks for trusting me to stop and to not judge you for stopping. I love you, and we never ever ever have to do that again if you don’t want to.”

Bobbi snorted. Then she sighed. She winced as the mattress shifted, but nevertheless laid down again, on her back, with her hands behind her head, looking pensively up at the roof.

“You know, I might just take you up on that, actually. I mean, don’t throw everything away just yet but…I’m going to need a pretty long cooling off period.”

“Understood,” Jemma promised. “Off the table, until if and when you bring it up again.” 

Bobbi smiled, and played with Jemma’s hand, where it still rested at her hip. 

“Thanks, Jem,” she said. 

“Always,” Jemma assured her. “For now, would you like anything? Cuddles, a movie, a massage?” 

Bobbi perked up at the last one. 

“Would you mind?” 

“Of course! I’d be happy to! There’s even oils and a warming basin in the bathroom.” 

Bobbi groaned. 

“Oh, that would be stunning.” 

Jemma grinned.

“Do you have a favourite flavour?” 

“I don’t mind. Lavender or something?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

Jemma kissed Bobbi’s hand before they parted, and Bobbi rolled onto her back and arranged the pillows and blankets around herself until she could sink into appropriate bliss. As a last thought, she took off her shirt and flung it down the end of the bed. Those warm, sweet oils would be all the more soothing, the more skin they could reach. Jemma didn’t need to see her angry, bruised behind, but the more of the rest of her those hands could get access to, the better. 

When Jemma returned, it was with a soft and gentle voice, even softer and gentler than usual. Every instruction was a question, a soft purr in Bobbi’s ear that deepened her relaxed state. Warm oil softened her muscles and soothed her anxieties, and she could have sworn she fell in and out of consciousness a few times under Jemma’s ministrations. 

“Bobbi, if you’re still listening to my voice,” Jemma crooned at the end of it, “I’m going to come into bed with you. I’m still in my pyjamas and I just want to cuddle and sleep. Would you like to join me?” 

“Mm,” Bobbi mumbled. 

“Would you like to put your shirt back on?” 

“Nnmmgood.” 

Sleepily, she let Jemma guide her until the both of them were under the covers and Jemma was being as big a spoon as possible, cuddling Bobbi’s back. Bobbi snuggled back into her and was glad to feel Jemma relax a little too, at the show of trust and comfort. Some of Bobbi’s muscles would definitely still be sore in the morning, but she was loved and protected and respected always, and that was the important thing.


End file.
